


I, for one, like Roman numerals

by thedreamerdelta



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Bickering, Copious amounts of alcohol - Freeform, Gift Fic, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Omg there was only one bed, Power Outage, Snowed In, shameless trope usage, these two are such a married couple omfG, you know that good shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28119411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedreamerdelta/pseuds/thedreamerdelta
Summary: Cid Garlond is finally assigned to his first research post without parental supervision. It’s even by the beach! Unfortunately for him there’s no power, the beach is a frozen wasteland, and his research partner is none other than his former friend Nero, who is not the slightest bit thrilled to be tagging along, butdoesneed more officially-sanctioned field experience before they’ll let him play with the big toys.Perhaps they’ll be able to set their differences aside to get through this series of unfortunate events without disaster?Pfft. Unlikely.
Relationships: Cid nan Garlond/Nero tol Scaeva
Comments: 12
Kudos: 22
Collections: Bookclub Winter Fic Exchange 2020





	I, for one, like Roman numerals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CorruptedHex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorruptedHex/gifts).



> > _**Cid/Nero** Maybe with the theme of gift giving, or cuddling up on a particularly cold day. Anything is fine really! _
> 
> For the Bookclub’s Winter Fic Exchange.  
> Written pre-5.4, so I was pleasantly surprised to get more of them.
> 
> Thanks to [WickedWiles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWiles/works) for betaing for me!

“I swear, Scaeva-”

“For once, Garlond, this was not my doing. Now,  _ if _ you wouldn’t mind  _ helping_-”

Twas a familiar scene - the son of Midas nan Garlond and the blonder Nero Scaeva having one of their usual quarrels.

Most of these, however, did not necessarily include outside an isolated cabin on the coast of the freezing ocean north of Garlemald.

“ _You _ were the one who insisted to be assigned to this hells-forsaken research post-“

“I didn’t think I would be assigned with  _ you, _ you uncommonly empty-headed waste for brains-“

Sadly, the heat of their argument did nothing to abate the chill of the 3 full fulms of snow they were now having to carve their way through to reach the Northern Research Facility that was less of an actual Facility and more of a glorified metal cabin. Not that the higher-ups in charge would ever admit it to the younger crowd, of course - they were currently enjoying the relaxing comforts of magitek-heated Legatus quarters.

It paid in more than gil to be able to reach the highest ranks in the Garlean Empire.

Thankfully for all parties involved, they reached the NRF with a quarter of a bell to spare before sundown. After a few curses and a good hard kick at the front door, the powered-down frozen lock finally gave way and they made their way inside, both sighing in relief at the reprieve from the biting wind.

“The electricity’s off,” Cid groaned unhappily. “Please tell me you have a power supply in that ridiculous knapsack of yours.”

“Well,” said Nero. “First of all, this  _ ridiculous knapsack, _ as you’ll recall, is the only reason we were able to have lunch today, as  _ someone _ didn’t realize the wilderness doesn’t come with a fully-stocked kitchen.” The other Garlean stared at him, unimpressed. “But…no.”

“Excuse  _ me _ for thinking we would be able to traverse 20 malms in a shorter time. Perhaps if  _ someone _ had wasted less breath on talking instead of movement, we might have reached the Facility by the time the sun was overhead.”

Nero rolled his eyes. “I have the materials to create one, if that will suffice. Unless you think yourself incapable of making something even as simple as a basic solar generator.”

Cid ignored the quip in favor of rummaging through the aforementioned supplies before he lost feeling in his fingers. Yes, he could work with this, he thought, pulling the dimly-pulsing circuits and wires out of the bag. It would take some effort, but they wouldn’t freeze. 

Probably.

“Honestly,” the blond barked as he unpacked their camping gear and remaining field rations, “what  _ did _ you even learn at the Academy?”

Though really, Cid mused, if Nero kept this up, hypothermia might actually be preferable. He shook his head and got to work.

\--

With Cid’s completed power generator (“How surprising, Garlond. It ought to passably function.”) humming in the window to try and soak up the last dregs of remaining sunlight, they had little choice but to set up the ineffective boiler that doubled as a backup wood-powered furnace while they waited. The previous occupants had so kindly left behind enough chopped logs (or, more likely had simply forgotten it was there) and in no time at all Nero had a warm fire crackling and a steel pot of snow melting into freshwater atop the small burner in preparation for reconstituting stew.

“What’s this?” Cid called from the other side of the oversized room. 

“Vast as my talents are, Garlond, I do not have eyes in the back of my head,” Nero yelled back from where he was tending the small fire. “Give whatever it is  _ here _ if you want me to identify it for you.”

Grudgingly, Cid brought him the aforementioned item he had found while exploring. It was a large dark green, nearly brown glass bottle with thick, roughened walls. The top was sealed with a professional-looking cork, yet it had no label nor identifying markings.

Nero took it from his hands and looked it over. “It appears to be a bottle. Have you not seen one before?”

“Yes,  _ I realize that, _ Scaeva.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I was beginning to worry you were  _ entirely  _ sheltered.”

“Oh, for-“ Cid threw his hands in the air. “I meant what was  _ in _ the bottle, as you very well know. Why you insist on being so  _ deliberately  _ obtuse I refuse to understand.”

“Well, one must needs communicate at the lowest common denominator of their audience if they wish to be understood, do they not?”

Cid pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed as he sat down next to him in front of the boiler.

“And...” Nero trailed off and hummed thoughtfully to himself as he looked through the rough glass carefully, trying to make heads or tails of the liquid within using the firelight.

Cid waited. 

And waited some more.

Eventually he realized the pause was lengthening more for the sake of drama rather than actual continuing contemplation and shook his head. “And?” he resignedly prompted.

“And I believe I know what this is after all. To be on the safe side, however…” He took out the weathered cork and wafted the fumes towards his nose from a safe distance. “Ah, I was correct. It’s for drinking.” The taller man eyed Cid mischievously and held it out to him. “Care to do the honors?”

He scoffed. “You first. I don’t even know what it  _ is. _ For all I know, it’s a sleep potion designed to knock me out so you don’t have to listen to me for the rest of the night. Not that you listen to me anyway...” Cid trailed off with an annoyed frown.

Nero shrugged. “Your loss. The first dreg is always the best one.” He took a short swig and handed it over. “See?  _ Not  _ a sleeping potion. Though you might wish it was after you’ve had some.” Turning back to tend the stew, he kept Cid at the corner of his peripheral vision in gleeful anticipation.

He didn’t have to wait long.

“W-what-” Cid gasped, wheezing and coughing as he nearly shoved the flask at Nero, fire still roaring in his lungs. “What in the  _ hells  _ did I just drink?!”

Nero laughed and took it from him. “Too much to handle for you, Garlond? You’re doing an admirable impression of a sputtering scalekin.” 

Cid took a long draught of his wineskin to clear the fiery sensation as best he could.

“ _That_ , my overprivileged countryman, is genuine homebrewed samogon.” Nero grinned at the white-haired man’s baffled silence. “Most certainly  _ not  _ a liquor one might find at your fancy dinner table. It exists in innumerable flavours, is distilled from damn near everything in the kitchen sink,  _ and._” He tapped the glass pointedly and threw back another mouthful. “As you’ve but recently discovered, is often meteoric in strength.” 

Cid wiped his mouth in an attempt to hide the impressed look that he couldn’t  _ quite  _ manage to hide - not with lava now flowing through his veins. 

Of course, the man would never have admitted it, had his rival chosen to call him on it.

Luckily for him, said person was currently much more interested in the bottle of vintage alcohol. 

Nero took another sip, and exhaled softly, letting the burn savor its way down his throat. “I have a strong feeling whoever made  _ this  _ batch used the bright redcurrant this region used to be known for.”

Cid had rested his chin on his knuckles to watch the man gesticulate, his head seemingly becoming heavier with drink. “How can you tell?”

“It’s actually decent, for starters,” Nero deadpanned. His nose wrinkled. “Sometimes batches can go quite wrong. Remember the graduation party?”

He thought. “The one that I couldn’t attend because I was helping Father?”

The other man sighed and shook his head. “You’re no fun. Well.  _ I _ remember it, because I  _ was  _ there-”

“I’d worked that one out for myself, funnily enough-”

“-and of all people, little Lucia pyr Junius herself - well, soon to be goe Junius, now; I can hardly believe it - thought she’d try and dump an entire juniper bush into the vat, roots and all. I thought her sister was going to explode with how red she turned. It was  _ quite _ the amusing spectacle.”

“I see,” he said, uncomprehending.

“The batch ended up being named ‘Morbol’s Breath’ and was so bitter the engineering team considered turning it into fuel at least twice.” Nero laughed and handed back the bottle. “This will warm us up, at least.”

Cid held the ancient-looking container cautiously, eyeing its mouth with trepidation now that he’d had the unfortunate chance to experience it. “I find myself unsure how I feel about drinking reject fuel substitute.”

“It’s no mulled wine, but it’ll do the trick.” Nero assured him dryly in his least assuring voice. 

\--

They passed the bottle back and forth while the stew cooked, finished eating, and (for lack of anything else to do without working electricity) traded stories as the drink slowly made its way through their bodies.

“You  _ -hic-  _ never!” Cid’s face was flushed - and as Nero had promised earlier, he was indeed feeling quite a bit warmer. (He’d also started hiccuping long before the meal was even finished. If Nero weren’t equally inebriated he’d have laughed at him.)

“I most as-ssuredly did.” Nero’s chuckles echoed pleasantly within the metal walls. As much as he would have liked to pretend otherwise, he hadn’t been entirely immune to the effects of the samogon. “Gaius n’ver found out who it was, neither. I only but wish that I could-could’ve seen his face.”

“I always  _ -hic-  _ knew you had guts, Nero, but- hells.” 

“Did you now? Hmm.”

They sat there in a rare benevolently contemplative silence, before Cid broke it for the third time within as many minutes with a languid stretch and loud yawn. Nero sighed.

“Alright, Garlond,  _ clearly  _ time for little engineers to go nighty-night.” Cid grumpily muttered something that might’ve been  _ ‘I’ll show  _ _ you _ _ little’  _ in between hiccups, but Nero was too focused on forcing his hands and their reduced motor functions into opening his sleeping bag’s zipper to hear him. “Where’d you put your bedroll?” 

Cid stared at his back blankly. 

“Garlond? Your sleeping bag? You didn’t plan on staying up all night, surely?”

“I  _ -hic- _ assumed the facility would have quarters.”

“You assumed-” He broke off and turned around to stare at Cid incredulously, scrutinizing his expression. “Bollocks. You didn’t actually bring one, did you? You really-?”

The other engineer’s face could only be described as morose. “All the _-hic-_ other research facilities I went to h-had dormitories, at the very least.”

Nero looked like he wanted to tear his hair out. 

“All the other research facilities probably had dormitories because your  _ father  _ is Midas nan  _ bloody _ Garlond and you never went to an  _ actual outpost_!”

“That wasn’t  _ my  _ choice!” Cid shouted - then looked stricken at his own words, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “That was  _ never  _ my choice. You know that.” When he chanced a look back up at Nero, he had laid out his bedroll next to the freshly-stoked furnace.

“Well it looks like, I, for one, am not going to suffer too badly tonight, then. You can enjoy the warmest spot on the  _ bare floor_.”

“Nero-”

The blond stiffened at the once-familiar sound. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Nero, come on.  _ -hic-  _ Please? You know I’ll be useless tomorrow otherwise.”

Nero made the mistake of rolling over and made eye contact with the poor man. Midas’ indomitable legacy had never looked so pathetic.

“Oh, for- Cid, don’t- stop looking at me like I killed your puppy. Come on.” His sober mind would have been mildly horrified to hear the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re being ridiculous.  _ Garlond_. _ Stop._” 

But Cid merely hiccupped at him sadly, eyes wide and unblinking.

Nero warred briefly with himself, lost, and then sighed in resigned acceptance. 

“...Fine. Get in.”  _ For old times’ sake. _

\--

As useful and efficient as sharing body heat would prove to be, stuffing two burly engineers into one sleeping bag was no mean feat. Nor were said people particularly enthused about sharing their limited personal space.

“Nero,” Cid complained morosely, “Why is your elbow in my  _ -hic-  _ kidney?”

“Yes, I  _ know_, Garlond. If you w-weren’t so short, this wouldn’t be an issue-”

“I’m a perfectly  _ -hic-  _ respectable height-”

“For a savage, maybe- Turn back over, damn you, I can feel your eyes at my back-”

“Well if you’d just shut your  _ -hic- _ mouth for once-”

“Do you want my body heat or not?”

“Fine!” 

“That’s what I thought.” Nero smugly pulled what little of the layers he could reach tighter around him and tried not to think about whose back was pressed against him. He took a deep breath and let it out, letting the worries of the day fall off.

They’d both be sore from the long and arduous hike on the morrow, he was sure, but at least they made it. And in the morning, Garlond’s generator (that had turned out much better with the tools they’d had than Nero would ever admit to the man) would have enough sunlight to activate, and the facility would be able to heat up well enough they’d stop bickering at each other over it.

Not that he wasn’t sure the man would find something else to yell at him for. Or vice versa.

“Nero, I can’t  _ breathe_.”

See?

“Garlond, at least one of us has to sleep comfortably and I’ll-be-damned if it’s not going to be me. Now, _do_ be quiet, _ would you_?” He could hear his words starting to run together. Probably the samogon, but it was a bit late to take back the amount they’d had.

He figured that was only a problem for the future-him, anyway. Present-him was being pawed and prodded at rather forcefully, albeit sloppily.

“For heavens’ sake, Nero, just-”

“Get your hands off-”

“Roll over, damn you-”

The lump of sleeping gear that was their now-much-abused bedroll tossed to and fro while Cid forcibly rearranged their sleeping positions until- 

“There,” Cid gruffly said from under Nero’s chin with a yawn. “Now we both get the covers  _ and _ fresh air.”

Nero found himself in the most unusual situation of holding his very drunk rival in his arms. The shorter man had wedged himself between his longer limbs and he found that no matter how he wanted to protest, his brain simply refused to cooperate. Something about the comforting scent of leather and machinery was calling him closer to slumber and mayhaps it was the drink, but he couldn’t help but think that - mayhaps, in another world, such an occurrence wouldn’t have been so unusual after all. That those happier days when they were both younger and the worst thing they had to worry about was a snowball thrown a little too hard - that they could have been a stronger foundation for fostering an alliance of equals, rather than fuel for flagrantive arguments.

Alas - he knew the son of the great Midas nan Garlond, greatest Chief Engineer the Empire had known, was destined for nothing but greatness himself. Nero had no business trying to bring him down to his level while he uselessly tried his utmost to catch up to his mere shadow.

So be it, then.

But... he could pretend, for one night if nothing else, that things had been different.

“You’re not half bad sometimes…” Nero slurred in drunken fondness as Cid burrowed deeper into his arms. “Y’know, when you’re not being such an idiot.”

“Shut up,” Cid mumbled to the man’s chest. “Your stupid voice is keeping me awake.”

“I could think of worse things to-”

“Go to  _ sleep_, Scaeva.”

For once, Nero did as he was asked.

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> ~~twenty miles a day on beans and hay in the regular army o~~
>
>> Q: What did Cid actually bring _with him_ , then?  
> A: Pencils, paper, and the research supplies. And wine.
>> 
>> Q: Samogon?  
> A: Samogon is essentially russian moonshine. (I know Garlemald is (from what we know, anyway) more Roman-based than russian, but listen. it’s fanfic and I do what I want. sometimes anyway.)
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading - I hope you enjoyed!  
>   
> If you liked this or any of the other fics in this year’s [Winter Exchange collection](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/BookclubWinterExch2020), please come and visit our lovely, wholesomely debauched [discord](https://discord.gg/enabling-debauched-xivfic) that our lovely mods work very hard on. I promise we only bite if you ask.


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